Vicarious
by missrebecca
Summary: On the north England coast, in an abandoned town, sits a hotel. Within the hotel lives a woman. Her vicarious life is a series of static images watched on CCTV, all death and destruction of her own making. Only he can change the game. AU. Vamps. Thriller.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! Welcome to my new multi chap. This is based off the song of the same name by Tool - with a much more macabre twist. I really hope you like it, and please let me know what you think :).

Big thank you to GermanAkice (Mary-Alice-Brandon-Cullen on ) for betaing this for me - she's amazing!

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Chapter 1

Sapphire walls made of silk encapsulate the exquisite boudoir, so at odds with the rest of the hotel, which seems to crumble day by day. There are no mould stains here, no water spots or moth eaten drapes. Here is decadence, a lush room filled with dark wood, heavy silk and dripping candles. Perhaps it is cliché, but no matter.

In an adjoining room all is cold, metal walls all grey in the flickering light from the ten CRT monitors stacked above an industrial desk. The chair squeaks as its occupant rocks back and forth, mouth twisted with glee. Her black eyes watch, hungry for more, as the final guest chokes on his last breath, brown eyes rolling to the ceiling before his body collapses to the floor, dead.

Minutes go by, and the macabre smile fades. The porcelain features relax, before a brow creases and black eyes lighten to crimson. Nails tap an impatient rhythm on the desk, as though she is waiting for the very dead guest to revive himself. It isn't going to happen.

"Well that was fun," a chirpy voice fills the room. Crimson eyes roll, of course Isabel would be happy with the performance.

"But now it's over, and I'm bored," the chair's occupant, Bella, replies. Their voices are eerily similar with the same bell like tone.

Isabel pushes brown hair over her shoulder, gazing longingly at the television screens. "So send out the invites."

Bella nods as she swings in the chair and marches into the deep blue room, her bedroom. Upon the chest of drawers, nestled within scattered perfume bottles, and ivory combs, are seven crisp envelopes. Within each envelope is an invitation, inviting a chosen few to the hotel, for four days of mystery and intrigue. Of course, Bella thinks with a smile as she winds her way through the hotel to the post-box, none of them know that they'll never leave this place.

A storm is rolling in when she finally reaches the red box at the end of the street. There used to be other houses here, large Victorian structures, but they've been abandoned over time, until all that is left is a street full of ruins, leaving only Bella's dark brick hotel standing proud at the end. Rain pounds the broken pavement as she wanders back, in less than a fortnight she shall have a house full of guests again, and her vicarious cycle can begin once more.

She can't wait.


	2. Chapter 2

So this one's a little longer. Thank you to those of you who reviewed the last chapter, I'm glad you liked it. All sorts going on atm, I have 2 assignments due in the next two weeks, neither of which is even close to being finished - it's quite scary I'll be honest. Also, NaNo is NOT going well this year. I have the next...4 chapters of this written and ready to go and I'm planning to update once a week, so hopefully I can get some writing in quick so I don't leave you hanging on chapters.

Also anyone in the HP fandom, something exciting's happening (or at least I think it's exciting personally). Watch this space :D

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Chapter 2

The invitation is hand written, looping cursive in deep purple ink. It had been sealed with wax, and has a gold seal at the bottom. Like something out of a historical film. It is an invitation for Mr and Mrs Royce King to spend four days in an apparently haunted hotel, all for free. What Edward wonders is, why is it being waved in his face?

"Come on, you've got to come, this is like, once in a lifetime or something." His elder sister, Rosalie King whines.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not interested in running interference between you and Royce."

A heaved sigh sends Rosalie's blond hair from her rolling eyes. "You won't be. Look, the invite says, 'Mr and Mrs King _and guest_'. You're our guest."

"Except that I don't want to be your guest. Take someone else." Edward's eyes drift past the form of his sister, hands-on-hips before him, back to the TV programme he doesn't care about.

It would seem that his sister is done with his avoidances, and simply walks away. But Edward isn't naïve enough to think he has been let off the hook. On the contrary, Rosalie's sure to be arming a counter attack.

The leather squeaks beneath Edward's shifting form, as he contemplates his sister's proposal. The fact is that her marriage to Royce hasn't been right for a while, what began as a scathing row over an infidelity on Rosalie's part, festered into a slow resentment. The pain of her betrayal is an open wound to a once warm hearted Royce, and he is no longer slow to anger. His ire is fitful and loud, and Edward is always grateful that his sister and brother-in-law have no children.

However, Rosalie is constantly trying to fix her marriage, taking them on many a weekend retreat. Yet they rarely venture alone, more often than not taking Edward along with them. Now here she is again, attempting to mend something that is long since beyond repair, trying to drag Edward into her schemes.

His fists clench in frustration, annoyed at his own bleeding heart. _Sometimes, _he ponders as he stands to follow his sister, _you're far too soft hearted for your own good._

"Fine," he bemoans upon a sigh, "I'll be your plus one."

Rosalie's English-rose face splits into a dazzling smile as she drops the knife with which she was chopping potatoes. After wiping her starchy hands upon a dishcloth, she is around the counter and enveloping her younger brother in her arms.

"Thank you so much," she almost squeals. "You'll love it, I promise. The hotel's meant to be haunted or possessed, or something."

Edward's green eyes roll. As a lecturer of the occult at Edinburgh University, both his friends and family imagine him to be interested in every claimed ghost sighting ever made. But his interest runs more towards the creature-of-the-night region of the supernatural; he'd be much more likely to go chasing after werewolves with silver bullets than sit through a séance. Though in truth, he is nothing if not a devout cynic.

Of course, he doesn't tell his sister any of this, instead only returning her embrace and nodding into her shoulder. It has always been of great annoyance to him that his sister is four inches taller than his five foot ten frame.

After gathering his coat from the chair over which he threw it, he makes his exit. They will leave for the hotel, situated almost an hour south near the coast around Alnwick, in two days' time. He'll need to contact the university to get his lectures cancelled. It's not the first time he's had to do so, and while his faculty head is always very gracious about it, he wishes it wasn't _always_ due to Rosalie's sudden trips.

As he walks the thirty minutes to his own home in Cornhill-on-Tweed**, **he thinks on the latest excursion of his sister's. Strangely, he wishes that her claims of a haunting are more than simply here-say. How often has he been on one of her 'mystery tours', only to find that the strange goings on are little more than parlour tricks laid by the landlord in order to entice gullible punters?

While much of his career has been spent disproving preternatural happen-stance, just once he wishes for something real; with little idea as to just how _real_ his life is about to become.

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	3. Chapter 3

Thank you once again to everyone who's reviewed! I had a flu jab done yesterday and my arms still killing me! What's up with that?!

Any NaNo-ers out there? How you doing, I'm only at like 4.5k, it is shockingly bad. Hoping to pull it up this week though :).

Anyway, let's get on with it :)

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Chapter 3

Rain pours from furious black clouds that circle above them. The hotel, standing at the end of an abandoned street, begins with a twisting drive way, though the taxi only takes them to the gates. By the time Edward and the Kings arrive at the impressive eight foot double doors, they are soaked through to the bone, shivering and, in Rosalie's case, with eyeliner streaking down her face.

Royce's ringed hand reaches out for the brass knocker, but he has barely touched it before the door is being swung inward. Behind the door is the petite frame of a woman, with pale skin and wide staring eyes. Her hair hangs in twisted ropes to her waist, and her mouth is a startling shade of pink. And while she is beautiful beyond anything Edward has ever seen, her wide toothed smile sends horrified chills through him.

"You're here!" Her mouth, if possible, grows wider, her teeth gleaming in the dim light. "Mr and Mrs King I take it?" she asks, as the drenched trio mill through the door.

Rosalie nods, smiling despite the chill. "This is Edward, my brother."

"Excellent," the strange woman trills. Her unblinking eyes find Edward's though he averts them to the ornately designed carpet swiftly. "The more the merrier," she continues, never taking her eyes from him.

After depositing their bags in the elaborately decorated foyer, along with their coats, they are escorted by the woman, whose head just barely reaches Edward's shoulder, down a heavily brocaded corridor into what appears to be a parlour. The ceiling here is high, the lights bright, and the wine flowing. It would appear that everyone else has already arrived. Edward has no time to glance about the room before the strange woman is addressing the group.

"Good evening!" she calls, her voice commanding that no one speak above her. "Glad you could all make it. My name's Bella and this is my hotel. I've lived here all of my life, and there hasn't been a year, nay a month, that's gone by where something strange hasn't happened." Here she smiles, and Edward realises he isn't the only one who's put on edge by the sight of her grin, as many of the guests seem to shiver. "Obviously you're all here to witness something…out of the ordinary, and I can promise you now, this will be a weekend that none of you shall ever forget."

Her skin is washed out in the harsh lighting, her eyes seemingly darker and strangely skull-like in her narrow face. Edward attempts to shake off the feeling, like ice down his back, putting it off to her words and the decrepit nature of the building. "But enough for tonight, you all need rest. Your room keys can be found upon the old reception. I must warn you, however, do not attempt to take a key which is not yours. The activities shall begin bright and early."

Bella smiles in a way Edward is sure is supposed to be friendly, before taking her leave of the guests. Rosalie is busy muttering with Royce, her beautiful face scrunched in consternation, Edward barely stops himself from rolling his eyes, and joins the small crowd around the reception.

Upon the cracked Formica lie eight brass keys, each attached with brown string to a weathered piece of card. As the crowd thins, talking excitedly between themselves, Edward moves forward to see which is to be his. Slightly skewed, obviously having been knocked by other grasping hands is a key. Words on the attached card written in cursive read, _Room 13 – Edward Masen._ He refuses to give a thought as to how Bella might have known his name, or that it was even he who Rosalie would bring.

After taking up his key he turns, following a few of the other guests up the wide staircase, when a slightly raised voice from behind pipes up.

"She said to only take your key," a woman's voice mockingly chides. Edward turns his head, and sees a small woman, though her mass of flaming corkscrew curls make her seem much taller, who is laughing at her fair haired companion.

"What's going to happen to me?" he asks. "Are the ghosts going to get me?" As he laughs Edward can only roll his eyes, there's always one who has to make a joke out of everything. Giving no more thought to the couple he continues to his room on the second floor of the hotel.

The entire place is ancient and it shows. Dated wallpaper peels in almost every hallway, the carpets are moth-eaten at worst, threadbare at best, and the ceilings are littered with brown patches from damp. Frankly, it's a disgusting place and Edward can hardly believe his sister had wanted to come.

When he finally reaches a once-white door with the number thirteen emblazoned in black on its surface, he holds his breath. The carpet inside is no better than in the hallway, and the wallpaper too, is peeling. Yet his bed is comfortable, the sheets clean and fresh, and the bathroom tidy. He decides that perhaps it won't be quite so bad.

That night Edward falls asleep strangely interested for the day to come.

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_Let me know what you think :)_


	4. Chapter 4

**Got to say Hello to Ruth, my real life friend who is apparently reading this fanfiction - bizarre.**

**Since I've now gotten up to chapter 11 written, I'm going to start posting twice a week. Between the Shadow and the Soul, the Harry Potter fic I've taken over from Bedelia, will post every Thursday...hopefully. while this will post every Tuesday and Friday :)**

**Enjoy**

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Chapter 4

To a man's screams Edward awakes.

In the grey dawn he can hear scampering feet and sudden voices outside his door.

"They're dead," a deep voice intones, wavering around both syllables.

"What?" a second asks.

"Vic and James, I went to-God, I was just going to see if James fancied a run. But they're dead."

"They're 'avin' your life. They can't be."

Sure feet march past Edward's door, and open what sounds like the room next door. It is slammed closed almost instantly.

"Christ," the voice sighs, before the unmistakable sounds of retching can be heard from the hallway.

Other voices join those already in the hallway, curious parties unable to turn their eyes away. They are like vultures to Edward, picking at the carcass that is someone else's pain. It disgusts him. As he rolls over in his bed, he attempts to shut out the voices, to perhaps drift back to sleep. However, the sounds of light feet, then the bright voice of the hotel's owner, bring him back from the brink.

"What seems to be the problem?" she asks. The man who had first screamed fumbles through his explanation. "Oh my, that's simply dreadful. I shall wake the rest of the guests, go down to the dining room, I'll get this sorted."

With little argument the men trudge down the hall, and then there is a knock on Edward's door. A chill goes through him as he opens it to reveal Bella, her mouth grim and yet there is a light in her eyes that speaks of only feigned sadness. It is frankly disturbing, and Edward is unable to catch himself from taking a step back from her.

"There's been a horrible accident, could I ask you to please go down to the dining room, while we attempt to sort this out?" she asks, pleasant as could be.

Edward only nods in reply before heading down the stairs. He avoids looking at room number twelve as he goes. In the dining room, the guests are beginning to gather, all bewildered aside from a group of three huddled by the wall. He finds Rosalie quickly, eyes confused as she tugs at her gown; Royce is nowhere to be seen.

"What's going on?" she asks, just as Bella walks into the room.

Her face is set in a look of sorrowful regret, yet Edward can't help feeling that it's false. Two people have died in her hotel, and yet from her face Edward wouldn't have been able to tell.

"I'm so sorry for waking you all," she begins, hushing the confused crowd. "It seems that two of our guests took the wrong room key, though I had warned them against it. That act was to be one of their last."

Whispers break out, before a voice pipes up from the front of the group. "You mean they're dead?"

"I'm afraid so. I'll be honest, this _has_ happened before. I would pray that you are all especially careful from here on out." Her smile is meant to be reassuring as she gestures behind her to a set of double doors. "Breakfast is served in the salon; feel free to wander the grounds. It looks to be a beautiful day."

A man with thick brown curls steps forward as Bella goes to leave. Beside Edward, Rosalie gasps. "You mean to say that this weekend's still on? After two people have died?"

"Well of course." Bella's voice drops as she steps towards the man, and while the top of her head barely reaches his shoulder, he steps back. "It was only an accident, an infestation of ants in the bed. The spirits here don't like to be disobeyed. Now, go enjoy your breakfast, while I inform the police."

And then she leaves. The room is bewildered, and whispers spark up immediately, yet they all follow her instruction and work their way into the salon. Waiting for them is a perfectly laid out buffet breakfast, and even those who had been friends of the deceased find themselves able to eat.

Edward sits at a small table with Rosalie, sipping orange juice and watching his sister. She is fidgety, and keeps twisting her wedding ring about her finger. Her gaze never wavers from the toast she is buttering to death, and eventually Edward simply has to stop her – it's far too painful for him to watch.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing," she says, but her voice is far too strained for it to be true. "Just, wondering where Royce is."

"You're lying. Come on, just tell me."

It had never taken much to get Rosalie to spill her secrets, not for Edward anyway. So he's unsurprised when she heaves an enormous sigh and drops her head into her hands.

"The man, sitting over there." She points behind her hand to a table in the far corner of the room. At it sits the three people who had been the dead couple's friends, one of which was the man who had questioned Bella that morning. "The one with the dark hair, that's Emmett."

"You're not serious. Did you know he was going to be here?"

"Of course not! Christ, if I knew that we never would have come. Royce's going to have a fit."

Edward can barely believe what he's hearing. That Emmett, the man his sister had an affair with, is staying at the same hotel as them. It's absurd. These things just don't happen.

"What're you going to do?"

Rosalie shakes her head, Edward can see the tears gathering in her eyes, but what can he say? He may not like Royce, but it was his sister in the wrong, she was the one who cheated. Even if she does deserve better.

Edward continues eating his breakfast, it's good, though he only has sausages and eggs on his plate, whereas Rosalie's is piled high, though she only picks at it. Her eyes keep shifting up to where Emmett sits, Edward doesn't bother telling her to stop. Eventually she stands, being as quiet as possible still some eyes shift to her, not Emmett's though.

"I'm going to find Royce," she says before leaving Edward alone.

Before leaving his room, Edward had grabbed his notebook and he opens it upon the table before him now. Turning to a fresh page he begins to write. _Two deaths on the first night, reason unknown, though sounds gruesome. Landlady seems unfazed - puts people on edge whenever she enters a room. No 'ghostly' activity so far._ After reading back over his entry, and deciding it would be sufficient he closes the book and reaches to take a sip of his tea, only to stop when he realises that the empty seat opposite him is now occupied.

"Hello," Bella says, with what is obviously an attempt at a pleasant smile twisting her lips. "You're Edward."

Nervously he clears his throat, before sipping his tea. "I am."

"You're an occultist, yes?"

The question of how this woman knows his profession tugs at his mind, but he attempts to put it from his thoughts. "Well I'm a lecturer specialising in the occult, though I'd say the paranomal is more my interest."

"I see." Slowly she wets her lips, and Edward notices that she has yet to blink, she is instead staring unerringly with her almost pitch black eyes. "And how would you separate the two?"

A sudden feeling of being interrogated comes over him, he is, however, much too polite to say anything. "Well," he once again clears his throat, "I would say that when I speak of the occult I speak of witches, both modern and traditional, and people who claim to have powers to contact the dead. When I speak of the paranormal I mean those things that are unexplainable, creatures like werewolves and vampires. How they came to be so fascinating and where did the original stories come from."

Finally she blinks, but she seems so interested in everything he says, it gives him a momentary spark of accomplishment. But then she licks her lips again, and he is struck by the urge to flee.

"And do you believe in it? In ghosts, witches, werewolves, and _vampires_."

"Oh, well, modern science tends to negate the existence of such creatures."

"And you are a man of modern science?"

"Well...not always. But it would take a wealth of evidence to get me truly believing, I think."

Her lips purse in thought and her strange eyes drop to the wooden table. "I see," she says, her voice is sad and for a moment Edward worries that he may have upset her. Yet quick as a snap her wide smile is back in place as she stands from the chair.

"Better speak to the guests, lots to do today." And she is gone to the front of the room. "Morning everyone, what an eventful night. Simply dreadful." Her face drops as she pauses, before a glint retakes her eyes and she is smiling, the morning's events forgotten. "Today we shall be walking along the beach, and I can tell you all some more about this place.

"Now, as some of you may have already noticed, the mobile reception here is a little wishy-washy. The hotel, however, is equipped with limited wifi access, should you require it."

No one speaks as she pauses, and Edward is bemused at the fact that no one has yet asked to leave, especially the companions of the deceased. It shocks him, though he supposes he has not asked to leave either, though frankly the people in that fated room had no connection to him. He is perfectly content in his thoughts that it was nothing more than an unfortunate accident.

"I'll leave you now, but be ready to leave in one hour. Thank you."

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	5. Chapter 5

Just a short chapter today, little insight into Bella's cray-cray world.

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Chapter 5

Everyone is gathered by the doors, it is still early and a brisk autumn chill hangs on the misty morning air. The guests are bedecked in hats and scarves, thick jackets and walking boots. Bella sees it all from her little room, the slightly grainy figures of her guests shifting on the monitors. Yet it is not them she is focused on.

Instead her eyes trace the movement of a lone man along the second floor corridor. There was no guarantee that it would be he that Rosalie would bring, but she is so glad that it is.

Occasionally, very occasionally, Bella ventures from her hotel in order to take in the changing world outside, it was on one of these excursions three years ago that she first encountered the enigmatic Edward Masen. Sitting in the back of the lecture hall, listening to him talk of magnetic resonance not being proof enough for the existence of ghosts, she was entranced.

"Still watching him then?" Isabel asks, swinging her legs from the chair she sits upon.

"He fascinates me," Bella replies. Isabel only tuts. "Don't do that. He's just so..."

"Boring."

"Fascinating."

Isabel scoffs and begins to plait a strand of Bella's hair. "Please, for one he's a university lecturer, and for another he's human. How _fascinating_ can he be?"

Shaking her hair out, Bella stands from the chair, Edward has now joined the rest of the guests and it is time to take them on their tour. "You'll never understand."

"Believe me, I don't want to."

Bella leaves Isabel in the room, shutting her from her thoughts. She needs no distractions today.

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_Let me know what you think :)_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

After Bella arrives she leads Edward and the rest of the guests out into the mist and around the back of the hotel. Here the grass is unkempt, and reaches almost to Edward's waist. He can hear the guests talking from his spot behind Rosalie and Royce at the back of the small group. Being silent and observant, he notices the slight commotion from the family of three in the middle of the group. The father grabs hold of his wife, and Edward watches her try to hide the pain of his grip. Then his son is there, whispering violently and attempting to wrench his father's grip from his tiny mother's arm. The father stalks forward, leaving the mother to kiss her son's forehead and discretely wipe the tears collecting in her eyes.

Edward averts his gaze.

Behind the hotel the grass eventually gives way to sand, and an undeveloped stretch of beach and grey sea open up before them. There is only the sound of the waves against the shore and the occasional caw of a gull to break the gathering silence; until Bella speaks.

"Gather round!" she calls. "Let me tell you a little about this place I call home. Many years ago this was a prosperous town, a beautiful seaside resort. But then women and children began to vanish into the sea, never to be seen again. Their spirits, however, were restless and they never truly left this place. They drove out the occupants of the town, for it to be left to wrack and ruin. Their ghosts still haunt this place, vengeful and restless, so please, don't go into the water.

"I'll leave you now to explore, lunch shall be a picnic in a few hours, and then I'll take you on a little tour. Get to know one another." She smiles brightly before taking her leave of the guests.

Left to their own devices the rabble of guests splits, with Rosalie and Royce heading south along the beach towards far off cliffs, and the mother and son head to the rock pools while the father tries to dial out on his phone. A couple made up of a blonde haired woman and her dark haired companion head with Emmett towards the northern side of the beach. Leaving Edward with a man and a woman, stood at a rather awkward distance apart.

Figuring there's no need to be standing in silence, he walks up to them to introduce himself. He learns that the man is named Carlisle, and he was the one who found James and Victoria that morning, while the woman is Esme, who came at Victoria's insistence.

"Why are you still here?" Edward asks, "Why haven't you gone with them?"

"We were going to," Carlisle insists, "but the landlady pressed that the police didn't need us and that their parents were informed. There was nothing we could have done."

Edward nods, thought he doesn't fully understand. Had something happened to his friends he wouldn't hesitate to stay with them. He would want to know why they had died.

"I wanted to leave," Esme breaks in. Her brown eyes are wide behind thick black framed glasses. "But I couldn't call a taxi, and Carl convinced me to stay."

From the way her eyes light when she looks at Carlisle, Edward imagines that it didn't take a lot of convincing.

Smiling politely, Edward leaves the pair and heads towards the mother and son by the rock pools. Thankfully the father is nowhere to be found.

The small dark haired woman jumps as Edward greets them, and the boy, gangly in his adolescence, stands to defend her. Raising his hands in peace Edward keeps his distance from the boy's mother. It's obvious that he's very protective of her.

"Hello," he begins, "I'm Edward."

The petite woman smiles as she places a small hand upon her son's shoulder. "Alice," she replies, smiling, "and this is Peter."

"It's nice to meet you," Edward says, attempting to catch the boy's eyes. "I just thought I'd come and introduce myself."

Peter ignores him and takes his mother's hand, leading her away from the strange man.

"So, how did you end up here?" Edward asks, following the pair as they scour the rock pools.

"An invite just popped through the door. Jasper, my husband, said it must have been one of the competitions I entered. I couldn't remember though." Alice smiles brightly as she watches her son, before turning again to Edward. "What about you?"

"My sister and her husband brought me."

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

Edward shrugs. "It's not so bad, though the deaths have me worried. Frankly, I think it's all a little unorganised."

"Yes, just leaving us to wander along the beach. Though I suppose it's only the first day, and with everything that's been going on."

"That is true, so why not just cancel it? What—" Edward stops abruptly and Alice's eyes widen as a hand clamps itself upon his shoulder. He is turned and comes face-to-face with Jasper, the moustachioed husband he had seen grabbing Alice earlier.

"What do you think you're doing?" he snarls, spittle flying in his rage.

Edward steps back. He's never been able to deal with confrontation, and attempts to soothe his racing heart. He won't let this brute know he has him scared.

"We were just talking," Alice speaks before Edward can formulate a response. She clutches on to her husband's arm but is batted away like an errant fly.

Edward backs away hands raised, yet Jasper pursues him. He has never been in a fight, except with his sister when they were younger. The stones are slippery under his feet, and he knows that it's only a matter of time before the maniacal Jasper catches up to him.

Yet then there is Bella, standing between the two men. Neither had seen her approach, it is as though she has materialised out of the mist itself.

"What's going on?" she asks. Her voice is like ice, colder than the air around them.

Jasper doesn't look afraid of her, and for the first time neither is Edward.

"He was _talking_ to my wife," Jasper spits, disbelief hanging on his every word. Edward wonders what it must be like inside his mind, to be so paranoid and controlling.

"I see, and is she allowed to speak to no one but you?"

It appears that Jasper has no answer as he silent fumes to himself. He seems to be weighing something up in his mind, and when he reaches to push Bella out of the way, Edward realises that Jasper isn't going to give up on his pursuit.

However, Bella's hand comes down upon Jasper's wrist as his hand wraps around her arm. There is no force in her grip and her gaze is unwavering, but Jasper drops to his knees seething in agony. Alice moves as though to go to his side, but is stopped by Peter.

Blowing wind whipped hair from her face; Bella leans in to speak in Jasper's ear. Her voice is quiet, deadly and meant only for his ears.

"Used to being a big man, beating up little women. Look at you now, brought to your knees. I'd watch yourself; humans can only take so much pain before they _snap_." She squeezes her grip until he shouts out in pain. Then he is released.

After stumbling to his feet, he stalks off down the beach, leaving his family to follow clumsily behind him. Peter looks to Bella as he passes, one of curiosity and awe, Bella smiles once the boy has gone, aware of the seed she has planted.

"Thank you," Edward says, slightly embarrassed that such a tiny woman was able to defend both her and him, when he could do nothing but retreat.

"Think nothing of it; I can't stand men like that."

Her gaze is distant, as though looking backwards into her memories, and for the first time Edward thinks she looks just like any other beautiful woman. Then her neck twitches, her large eyes blink and she turns a tooth filled smile his way, and the frightful shivers are back up Edward's spine.

"Come on," Bella says, smiling brightly, "lunch is ready."

Bella leads the way over to a group of dishevelled wooden picnic tables and Edward finally notices what she is wearing. She is adorned in a knee length black, lace dress, with long sleeves and bare legs. She looks young, and Edward realises that he can't put a finger on her age. At times she is like a child, at others strangely ageless.

From a box on the table she pulls polystyrene boxes and passes one to each guest. Within are butter and cheese smothered jacket potatoes, everyone digs in with gusto, having not realised how hungry they were.

"Nice walk?" Edward asks as he sidles up to his sister and Royce.

Royce grunts in response before sending a deathly look in Emmett's direction. Edward's eyebrows rise in question to his sister, but she only shakes her head. He can now see that her blue eyes are bloodshot, her face splotchy and red from her tears. He's never been able to deal with his sister crying, it causes a horrible ache to form in his gut, but no matter how much he wants to comfort her, he knows she wouldn't allow it.

No one is speaking as they eat, though half the guests aren't even doing that. Bella looks around the group; smiling as they discomfort is almost palpable in the air around them. She knows that this group will give her the best weekend yet. As her eyes pass across everyone, she sees a man and a woman, she doesn't remember their names but she knows they arrived separate. The man whispers something in the woman's ear, causing her to giggle quietly. Bella decides that they'll be next.

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	7. Chapter 7

Longest chapter yet, and one I'm rather fond of - not entirely sure why. As I write I find I enjoy Bella just a little bit more with every chapter. Next chapter should be up on Friday :)

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Chapter 7

Rosalie picks at her vegetable lasagne, while Royce tears at his steak. After five minutes of attempting to spark a conversation with his sister and brother-in-law, Edward had given up, and resigned himself to spending the evening in silence. The whole afternoon had been a study in discomfort, as Bella has given a tour of the hotel and surrounding area. Out of the eleven guests left only four were anywhere near interested, while the rest, Edward included, were silent as they ignored the rest of the people they'd arrived with.

Having finished his steak, Royce stands to leave, nodding a goodbye to Edward, yet ignoring his wife completely. Once he has gone, Edward places down his cutlery and simply stares at Rosalie. She tries to ignore him, but as ever can only stay silent for so long.

"We ran into Emmett on our walk," she sighs, hiding her face in her hands.

"And I take it that didn't go well?" he jokes, only to receive a glare from Rosalie.

"Considering the last time they met, Royce broke Emmett's nose, I'd say no." Pushing away her plate she rests back in her seat, eyes to the ceiling. "This whole thing's a mess, maybe we should just leave."

Before Edward could reply, Bella suddenly appeared by their table, eyes focused on Rosalie. Edward wasn't sure how he would describe the look in the landlady's eyes; though anger would sum it up quite nicely. Her eyes were completely black, her pink lips taught and her hands curling into fists by her side.

"Excuse me, Mrs King, is something the matter?" she asks, such strained politeness in her voice.

"What? Oh, no, I'm just not hungry. In fact," gathering her handbag she sends an apologetic look to Edward, "I'm not feeling too well, I think I'm going to lie down." Then she shuffles past Bella, being careful not to touch her, and leaves her brother alone.

Shaking his head Edward simply continues to eat his steak; he knew he shouldn't have come on this trip with them. It always ended like this. Royce would become angry with Rosalie, she would try to make it up to him, and Edward would be left alone. He wasn't sure why they were even still together, when it was so obvious that Royce had no plans to either forgive or forget about Rosalie's indiscretions. It simply baffled him.

"On your own again," Bella says as she sits opposite him. Edward frowns as he realises he might have spent more time with this stranger than with his own sister in the last two days.

"It would appear so," he replies, smiling before sipping his wine.

"Things seem a little…tense between them. Is everything okay?" Her tone suggests concern, but that shine is back in her eyes, and if anything Edward would swear they grow darker, suggesting she is in fact happy that things aren't quite right between his sister and her husband.

"It'll be fine, eventually." Finally clearing his plate, he wipes his mouth on the napkin and sits back. She still makes him uncomfortable, but he can't deny that she's been good company so far. "It was quite a tour you gave us this afternoon. I imagine everyone will be turning in early after the walk."

Bella smiles obviously flattered, before she casts her eyes around the dining room. "Perhaps."

"I meant to ask, is it only you here? It's just I haven't seen anyone else."

Bella smiles, and for the first time it doesn't send chills through him. She has yet to blink, and she sits oddly still, yet he is not afraid. _Perhaps_, he muses, _I am becoming used to her_.

"It's just me."

"And you prepare all the food?" His tone is one of disbelief. True there aren't many guests, but still, he would have imagined her to have at least a chef on hand.

"I do, does that bother you?"

After shaking his head he finishes his wine, and then stands from his chair. His limbs feel heavy, his eyes sore, and he knows that it is time for bed. There isn't a single clock in the whole hotel, and he'd forgotten his watch back home, so he is unaware of exactly how early he is retiring to bed, but he imagines it to be shockingly so.

"Heading off?" Bella questions, to which he nods.

"Thank you for the lovely meal, see you in the morning?"

"Bright and early," she chirps as she watches him leave.

There are still some guests in the dining room, but she doesn't give them a second thought as she leaves. Taking the stairs two at a time, she whisks her way to the fourth floor. Slamming her heavy oak door behind her, she bypasses her boudoir and enters her little steel room. There she watches Edward, as he clumsily slips his key into his lock, kicks off his shoes inside his bedroom. As his hands slip to the buckle on his belt, Bella's tongue peaks out to wet her lips, she imagines that had her heart been capable of beating it would be racing.

Just as his hands reach to pull his shirt off, a voice causes Bella to jump and close her eyes.

"This is disturbingly voyeuristic, even for you," Isabel says, the smile evident in her voice.

"I wasn't…I was just…" Bella stammers.

"Being a pervert." Isabel's eyes focus in on the grainy screen, Edward is now getting into bed, with the view now only of his back and pyjama covered legs. "It's okay; he is rather pleasant to look at."

Bella rolls her eyes and spins away from the desk. Kicking her feet along the ground she spins herself, faster and faster until all is a blur around her. She is incapable of feeling sick anymore, but still she spins herself, just in case the feeling comes back.

"Today went well," Isabel says.

"Better than we'd expected. I'm not sure the four days will be needed this time," Bella replies. She finally stops herself, and frowns as the ceiling is still in perfect focus. "Two shall be dead by morning, and I imagine the other five will follow shortly after."

"Which will leave only four. Then what?"

Bella's eyes slip back to the CRT upon which Edward's sleeping form is emblazoned. She hasn't told Isabel her plan, though she probably already knows, she always does.

"You want to keep him," Isabel says, disgust dripping from her words.

"Yes."

"As what, your human pet?" When Bella doesn't answer, Isabel scoffs her eyes wide in disbelief. "You can't seriously mean to change him? We've never done that! Christ, do you even remember how we were changed? Because I certainly don't."

Standing sharply, Bella begins to pace across the floor, kicking off her shoes and allowing her bare feet to feel the cool concrete beneath her. "I think I know."

"You _think_ you know. And if you're wrong? You'll kill him."

Bella's hands are embedded in her hair, the curls splitting and reforming under her grasp. Why can't Isabel just shut up for once? Why does she have to destroy her plans? Shaking her head, Bella straightens her hunched form and gestures towards the monitors.

"Forget that, look, there they go."

Black eyes focus on the top left monitor, as the blond haired man grasps onto the auburn haired woman's hand and together they sneak quietly down the second floor corridor. They occasionally sneak in kisses, and at one point become consumed with one another on the stairs, but eventually they make it through the hotel and out the front door.

Bella grins and scrambles out of her bedroom window and out onto the roof. Lithely she runs across the old tiles, before dropping down to the ground, barely disrupting the sand beneath her. There she hides in the long grass, watching as the couple run towards the sea.

The woman stops as the man stands before her, brazenly stripping off his clothes. His shirt sends his blond hair into disarray, and for a moment Bella can almost see what the woman sees in him.

"Oh my God, Carl! You weren't serious?"

"As a heart attack," he jokes, undoing his fly and removing his jeans. He is left in nothing but the skin he was born in, and Bella smirks. Must be cold out.

"You coming?" he asks as he jogs towards the water, leaving the woman alone.

For a moment she is indecisive, and she glances back towards the hotel. But just as Bella knew she would, she follows Carl in stripping off her clothes and running into the water. The woman is much too easily swayed for her own good.

They splash around in the water, kissing and caressing as though they are not naked in the North Sea. Bella remembers the cold of that water and frankly cannot understand why anyone would do that.

She rises from her spot in the bushes and stalks towards the couple. It has been so long since she has killed someone herself, the anticipation sends electrifying tingles throughout her body. She is so hungry.

Into the water she descends, unable to feel the cold as it rises to her breasts. Her prey doesn't see her, don't hear her. How could they? So wrapped up in their lives, with their beating hearts and staggered breaths. Yet so easily crushed, how fragile the human condition. She is once more glad that she shook off such delicate bonds.

Before either of the pair realise she is upon them, strong hands on their heads forcing them under the water. Drowning never takes as long in the North Sea, the cold makes it so much easier. But for a time their hands scrape at her skin, nails leaving claw marks, though they heal almost instantly. Legs kick beneath the surface of the water, and bubbles rise as the couple shouts and screams – as though that is going to make her stop. Quicker than she might have liked their bodies stop wriggling and eventually become limp; she holds them under just a little longer – just to be sure.

She knows when they are dead, however, because there is a sudden rush within her. For a brief second her dead heart beats, her skin is flushed and her legs cold. Then their life forces are absorbed and she is once more pale, unable to feel the water around her, and empty. Disgusted she leaves the bodies to float in the water, and stalks back towards the hotel, angry and ready for the new day.

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	8. Chapter 8

And here we have another chapter. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and favourited this! I hope you continue to enjoy it. I've almost finished writing it too, yay!

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Chapter 8

For a second day Edward is awoken by screams. His eyes snap open and take in the damp stained ceiling. Late autumn sun filters through the once white lace curtains as he shoots up in bed, slips his feet into his shoes and races out into the hallway.

Clattering down the stairs he skids to a stop by the gabble of guests in the entranceway. In the middle of the group he sees Rosalie, moth eaten blanket over her shoulders and a hollow look in her eyes.

Her hands are ice cold when he reaches her, trying to ignore that it is Emmett who is comforting her.

"What's happened?" he asks, but Rosalie only shuts her eyes and shakes her head. It is Emmett who answers.

"She went for a walk and found Carlisle and Esme. They'd been washed up by the high tide."

"I couldn't sleep," Rosalie whispers, her voice fragile. "I've never seen people like that, Edward. I keep seeing them."

Unsure of what to say, Edward casts his eyes around the group. Royce and two other guests Edward doesn't know the names of, are crowded around the front desk, behind which he can see Bella on the phone. The noise of frightened guests drops as her voice filters through the room.

"Yes, another two...Yes they drowned...No, no one's touched them. Okay, I will...See you soon, thank you."

After placing down the phone, Bella addresses the guests.

"The police will be here soon. If I could ask you all to wait in the parlour. I'm sure they'll want to speak to some of you."

With little argument the group moves into the parlour, finding seats upon plush pink sofas and armchairs. Edward sits beside Rosalie, with Emmett upon her other side. Royce avoids the trio and begins marching along the carpet. Edward doesn't like the angry look he shoots at his wife; there is a crazed look in his eyes that Edward doesn't trust.

"Well, I don't know why we have to stay," a brown haired woman says. Edward doesn't know her name, and had never taken notice of her. She is dressed well, and looks strangely made up considering she's just been asleep. She is sat next to a man Edward assumes is her husband, though from the look of him he could be mistake for her father.

The man places a comforting hand upon his wife's knee. "We could go back to bed, if you like?"

The woman nods and the pair leave. Edward only shakes his head at the selfishness of some people.

On the second floor of the hotel, behind a door with a crooked figure four upon it, a couple lounges in bed. The woman, whose name is Kate, writhes in feigned ecstasy beneath her viagra filled husband Alistair. As she moans falsely, Kate's mind wanders.

She remembers meeting her husband, how perfect he had been. Rich and old and ill, he was only supposed to last five years at the most. But then he'd recovered and for the last eight years she's been looking for a way out.

Finally Alistairs face screws up as he shudders with pleasure, emptying himself inside of her. After placing a sloppy kiss upon her brow, he rolls off, laying on his back in order to catch his breath.

After cleaning herself off in the bathroom, Kate pulls the glass vial from her makeup bag. Holding it up to the light she watches as the clear liquid deforms within the glass. It had taken her a long time to find this. She's unsure of what the liquid is, but she has been told that it will be virtually undetectable and will kill instantly.

Now would be the perfect time, she knows. With four people dead already, an extra one won't seem so suspicious, surely. She frowns at herself in the mirror. Is this really what she's become; is she ready to kill someone? But then her mind brings forth the idea of another ten years with him, and the tiny amount of money she would get from the pre-nup if she was to divorce him. She can't do that.

Clenching the vial in her palm, she walks back to the bedroom and to the tea service. Into Alistair's tea she pours the liquid. No going back now.

He smiles before he sips his tea, blue eyes shining with love for the woman before him. Perhaps her thoughts should have been on his children and grandchildren, but they are only on her.

Suddenly he seems to choke, and clutches his chest as though unable to breath, then he is gone. Kate's eyes are wide; it was all much quicker than she'd expected. Leaning forward she places one last kiss upon his still warm lips, then lays beside him as if to sleep.

Like her husband, she doesn't wake up.

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_They're dropping like flies!_

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	9. Chapter 9

**Good Morning! How goes your Christmas shopping? Well I hope :). I've just about got all of mine - yay!**

**I don't have much more of this story written unfortunately, so I'm going to get my bum in gear this week and try to finish it - if not though, I might have to drop back to a once a week update for the next couple of chapters. But we'll see :)**

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Chapter 9

When the police arrive, Bella escorts Rosalie out of the parlour and into the entranceway. Edward attempts to follow his sister, but is told that they only wish to speak to her. Unhappily he slumps back to the settee, and tries to ignore the tension in the room.

He can't believe this is happening. Four people are dead, and who knows what's going to happen now. Not for the first time he is deeply regretting coming on this trip. He could be at home, marking research papers – in truth an odious task, but much safer than this appears to be.

His gaze is distant, lost somewhere in the middle of the room, when Emmett suddenly stands, causing Edward's gaze to snap to the man beside him. It seems the tension has finally snapped, as Royce and Emmett square off against each other. There is no notable different in their heights, though Emmett is significantly broader.

"If you've got something to say, don't hold back, say it," Emmett goads, obviously sick of Royce's not so sly looks.

"Alright I will." The usually composed Royce is boiling, Edward can see. His skin is flushed and his hands are shaking. He knows he should do something, to stop this before it can start, but he doesn't relish the idea of getting between two men almost half a foot taller than him. "You need to stay away from her," he hisses.

Emmett scoffs, "When have I been near her?"

It is obvious from the look in his eyes that Royce doesn't believe a word his opponent is saying. "Please, I bet this whole thing was arranged before we came. Mysterious invite, my arse."

Emmett seems suddenly tired. Edward feels sorry for him, becoming caught between a married couple must be tiring, especially when it's obvious that Emmett cares greatly for Rosalie. "Look, I had no idea you were going to be here, if I had I wouldn't have come."

Before Royce can retort, Rosalie reenters the room, looking so fragile Edward doesn't attempt to stop himself from going to comfort his sister. She leans into his embrace, as he tries to warm her ice-cold fingers.

"What did they say?" he asks.

She stands up, but doesn't look at him as she answers. She seems strangely blank; as though she is reading from a script she's never seen before. "They said it was an accident, that I couldn't have done anything. We have to stay inside the hotel though, until they're finished with their investigation." She stops and turns her gaze in the direction of her husband, though she doesn't meet his eyes. "Royce, I need to speak with you in our room."

Then she turns and leaves, Royce stalking out after her. Edward is left baffled and confused. He doesn't like this at all.

~V~

Spinning in her chair Bella cackles with glee. This couldn't have gone any better. By the end of the day nearly everyone will be dead, and Edward shall be left. All for her.

"I wouldn't celebrate just yet," Isabel crones. Bella rolls her eyes and stops spinning. Why must Isabel always put such a downer on things? Just when things are beginning to look up.

"And why not? Six of them dead, another two about to be, and then only four to go. It's the quickest they've ever gone!"

"And what about him?" Isabel nods her head towards the monitor upon which Edward's worried face is splashed.

"I told you, I'm keeping him." Bella knows the argument Isabel is about to bring, but she refuses to listen. So instead she stands and leaves her bedroom, choosing to wander the landing instead. Isabel can never come out here; can never bother her out of that room. Sometimes she thinks she should just lock the door and leave her there. But then how could she watch her guests?

Of course, once she has Edward, she won't need to watch them anymore. With him she'll leave this place and chart a new course. Perhaps move to a city? She smiles as she saunters, imagining the misery festering within a place bigger than this. Maybe Edinburgh, or Newcastle. Scotland or England, the possibilities are endless. And even if she decides one way instead of another, she has endless time to change her mind.

Skipping down the stairs to the second floor, she places her ear against the door to room number ten, smiling as she hears the ruckus within.

"What did you want to tell me?" Royce asked as he shuts the door to their room behind them. Rosalie is pacing the floor, her hands writhing like snakes and her hair a halo of curls around her face.

Royce wonders where it all went wrong. It would be so easy to blame Rosalie for it all, but something must have been wrong before hand for her to run into the arms of Emmett. And why him anyway? He was a tiffy at Royce's engineering company, a working class man that couldn't provide for her the way Royce could. So why him? What did he have to offer that Royce didn't?

All these questions cycle in his head, but they do not sadden him. Instead they only enrage him. His heart pounds, while a headache builds within his brow, while his hands clench to fists at his side. What he wouldn't give to unleash this tension.

"The thing is, this isn't working," Rosalie begins. She doesn't look to her husband as she speaks, frightened of what he might say. She's not sure why she's saying these things, only that she must tell her husband the truth. It is imperative that she tell him, though she isn't sure why. "We try and we try, but this marriage was over so long ago. And I know it's my fault, but I can't be entirely sorry for that. The fact is I'm in love with Emmett, not you. I used to be, you were everything to me. But things change and they have. And I don't know what else to say."

Finally she looks up, hoping for what, she's not sure. Forgiveness is a long way off, she knows. Perhaps redemption. Not a single word was a lie, and she doesn't feel bad for speaking her mind. They have been going in circles, trying to fix the irreparable, and it's about time that they stopped and instead picked up the pieces and moved on.

Before she has chance to blink Royce is flying towards her, and his fist connects sharply with the side of her face. There is a moment of pain and pure shock, as Rosalie falls; she thinks perhaps she made the wrong choice telling him the truth. Then her head hits the corner of ottoman at the end of the bed, and the world around her goes black.

~V~

Outside the door Bella hums as Royce's shouts start up. Ascending the stairs she hears the tell-tale sound of footsteps behind her as Emmett comes to his loves rescue. As she opens the door to her room there's the unmistakable sounds of fists hitting flesh, of heads hitting hard floors. And as she looks in her monitors she sees Royce's blood seeping across the floor towards the spot where Emmett cradles Rosalie and weeps.

"Eight down," Bella says.

"Five to go," Isabel responds.

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	10. Chapter 10

**I don't have the next chapter completely finished, so it may be a little longer between updates now.**

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Chapter 10

Edward simply stares at the ceiling in his room. His mind creates shapes from the brown stains as his eyes go in and out of focus. His mind is strangely blank as he thinks over the day's events.

Being awoken to the news of another two deaths was bad. Then his sister was acting so strange and proceeded to hole herself up in her room with her husband and lover. It was entirely bizarre.

His entire day had been fraught. Being stuck inside the hotel, and with Bella occupied with the police, the remainder of her guests had busied themselves playing every one of the few board games available to them. Jasper, however, did not join in often.

He struck Edward as a very strict, reserved man, and upon questioning the family discovered that he used to be in the military, before being medically discharged due to losing his leg in Afghanistan. He imagined it left more than physical scars on a man, and while he wasn't sure that justified his abuse of his wife, Edward could understand how a man could become so angry after military service.

He remembered his own father had been changed by his service in the Falkland's. Though his father had never resorted to violence, at least that he or his sister ever saw.

They had all retired to their rooms soon after dinner. Edward had gone to check on his sister, but she had only shouted through the door that she was okay and didn't need anything. So he had left her to it, he didn't imagine it was a very pleasant conversation they were having. Especially after Emmett had raced up the stairs upon hearing Royce's shouts.

Then there had been the conversation he had had with Bella.

She had approached him over lunch, sitting beside him with her own plate of food, though she didn't touch a piece of it as they spoke.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Edward nodded as he swallowed. "I'm okay, a little freaked out."

"Of course, I've never known it to be so bad," she said, though thinking back Edward thinks that perhaps she was lying. "I have to say though, it is a little exciting, don't you think?"

"Excuse me?" Edward was shocked she could say such a thing, as though people dying could ever be exciting.

"Well I mean it's a flaw of the human condition isn't it, to enjoy other peoples suffering." She shrugged as though what she said made perfect sense, as though he was ridiculous for not realising it himself.

"I certainly don't," he argued. "I think it's horrible. Their families will be distraught."

"Of course you don't. You're so different to everyone else. But even you have to admit, it's something to tell people when you go home."

"Well…" here he floundered, because of course he'll tell people when he goes home. And yes he had thought it was quite an interesting story to tell the other professors. Horrible, but interesting. "Yes, but I won't take any pleasure in the retelling."

Bella frowned, placing her still full plate on the coffee table and turning so she could better look into Edward's eyes. "Don't lie to me, Edward. It's been the same throughout history. The Roman's watching the gladiators; how people would congregate at public beheadings, how even now people watch boxers almost kill each other in the ring. The human condition vies for blood; we need it. Deny it all you want, but you all need it too."

Realising that he wasn't going to win the argument Edward simply continued eating his egg sandwiches. Bella stayed sitting beside him for a little while, before huffing and leaving the parlour.

From his bedside table, Edward retrieves his phone. He'd refused to check any of his emails this whole time, wanting to at least try to enjoy the weekend away. Now, however, he's sure the whole thing is ruined, and so feels no remorse as he connects to the Internet.

There are four emails from students, and one from his head of department about some meeting that's to take place on his return about the streamlining of some of the subjects. Nothing particularly interesting.

Figuring that while he is already connected he might as well, he opens up his mobile browser and types in the name of the hotel. He's surprised that he didn't do this before they arrived, frankly. He nearly always checks out the place his sister is taking him to.

The hotel has no website of its own; however one of the first results is an old news article. Interested Edward taps to open the page. What he reads has his heart pounding.

_17__th__ September 1873_

_Today the inhabitants of Boulmouth are conducting a wide search of the area and surrounding fields, in search of Isabella Swan. The twenty year old daughter of Charles and Elizabeth Swan, owners of The White Star hotel, went missing two days ago after taking a trip to Alnmouth. According to sources Miss Swan never arrived and has not been seen since._

_According to townsfolk it is imperative that she is found. She is currently undergoing electroshock therapy at the asylum in Alnwick on a weekly basis, and was allowed home, as it had appeared she had improved. People now wonder if perhaps the voices have come back. Her parents are determined that people are aware that she is of no danger to anyone._

To go with the story there is a photo of Isabella Swan, and it is this that causes Edward's palms to sweat. The photo is of a pleasant enough looking woman, with thick dark curls and full lips. Her eyes are wide and dark, though even in the old photo Edward can see there is a strange spark in them. She is dressed in black, long sleeves and bare legs. And she is the exact copy of their landlady.

Not quite believing what he is seeing, he clicks onto the next news article to do with the hotel.

_10__th__ January 1874_

_Sprees of deaths have caused the inhabitants of Boulmouth to flee their homes. Of the 365 previous occupants of the town, only 126 remain though they are now choosing to leave before they too succumb to what some people are calling a 'curse'. _

_Every victim seems to have been attacked by some sort of animal, as they had been mauled beyond all recognition. First to become victim to this were the owners of the White Star hotel Mr and Mrs Charles Swan. Their daughter, Isabella, recently found alive and well, managed to escape the happenings. The White Star now falls to her to run. _

_When asked what she plans to do now, she said, "I will continue to run the hotel, until people stop coming to it."_

Edward can barely believe what he has just read, and his mind spins in order to come up with some rational explanation for it all. The sensible thing would be that there is simply a rather strong familial resemblance along the Swan line. Almost one hundred and fifty years isn't really that long, and this Isabella Swan is obviously the landlady's great-great-great-grandmother.

Unless, of course, the Isabella in the news and the Bella currently somewhere within the hotel is the same person, in which case she would be one hundred and fifty-nine years old. Edward suddenly laughs hysterically; _she's certainly looking good for her age_.

But that's absurd; no one could be so old and yet seemingly unchanged. Yet every other explanation seems suddenly so ridiculous.

After throwing his phone back on the table he shakes his head. He refuses to believe it. For her to be so old, she would have to be some sort of vampire. And while the idea of vampire's being real fills him with a strange sort of excitement, in practice he refuses to believe that it could be real.

It's lecture material; the sort of thing he reads books about, watches films about, it is not the sort of thing found in real life.

Suddenly very cold he crawls under the covers and attempts to put all thought from his head. This can't be real.

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	11. Chapter 11

**Here we have another chapter. This one was a bit more difficult to write, simply because I've become quite attached to one of the characters.**

**Next chapter we're having a little more Bella :)**

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Chapter 11

A floor below where Edward tries to sleep, a family of three are doing anything but. The room is no bigger than any of the others in the hotel, with a double bed taking up most of the space and a camp bed set up at the bottom for Peter to sleep on.

He is laying on the bed, attempting to read his book with his headphones in, though the loud music doesn't drown out the sound of his parents. Sometimes he finds it hard to remember what it was like to love his father, and to know that his father loved both him and his mother. Three years his father has been leaving bruises on his mother's skin, she tries to hide them, and hide her tears, but it's getting harder.

She still loves him, Peter knows. He heard her talking to her sister one night. She told Aunt Cecelia that she wouldn't leave Jasper, not unless he laid a hand on Peter. He doesn't understand why she doesn't love herself as much as she seems to love him. If he could he would take his mum away, they would go far away from his father, to a place where he can never hurt her ever again. He's already saving up all his paper-round money in order to do just that.

He remembers when she used to smile every day, now it seems like she's never happy. Quickly, Peter brushes away the tears that collect in his eyes. He hates his father for doing this; sometimes he wishes he'd lost more than just a leg in the war.

Finally the bed stops moving and his father rolls off of his mother and wanders to the bathroom. It disgusts him that his father does that to his mum at all, let alone when he's in the same room. He's learned all about it at school, and he knows that what his father does to his mum isn't consensual. She's horrified by him.

On unsteady feet she stands from the bed after righting her nightdress. Her face is tear stained and her hair in disarray. Peter pulls his earphones out, as Alice tries to smile at her son, his blood boils.

"How can you keep letting him do this to you?" he asks, rage causing his voice to shake.

"Not now, Peter," Alice sighs.

When his father re-enters the room, Peter leaves, ignoring the order to stay. His insides are churning, his stomach overcoming his willpower as he vomits on the ugly carpet of the hall. Why is his family so wrong? Why are they so broken? Why can't his father be like he used to be? The questions cycle in his mind. Peter wishes for the man who would throw him in the air, even though he was far too big, who would read him bed-time stories, and play hide-and-seek.

The tears come without him knowing, drenching his cheeks as he leans against the filthy wall. His mind is a cacophony of white-noise, just a blur of memories. They consume him and he wonders if maybe he could have done something? He knows it makes no sense, it's not his fault his father turned into a monster, and yet it doesn't stop him wondering. It has become somewhat of a habit, to ignore and to hide.

Perhaps, and the thought creeps upon him, perhaps he should fight back. But what can he do? He's thirteen years old, and as his father often tells him, weak as a kitten. He would be useless against his father's army muscle. Turning, he slams his fists against the wall, breaking down as his mind rebels. There must be something, something, anything he can do.

When he turns back, heart pounding and head aching, he jumps in fright. Standing where, but a moment ago, there was nothing, hands clasped behind her back and docile smile on her face, is the landlady. Her eyes, he sees, are red, though when he blinks they are once more their usual black - though, he thinks, that too is an odd colour of eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asks. It is the sort of question that Peter knows does not require an answer - she knows he isn't. Slowly, she steps towards him, feet wandering this way and that instead of simply walking straight. She's shorter than him, though not by much, and she presses on his shoulder until he slides down the wall to sit on the floor.

Kneeling before him, two cold hands on his shoulders, she stares placidly into his eyes. Peter finds himself lost in her gaze, drowning in the onyx pools. "Peter," she says her tone vacant, without intonation, "your problems will be over soon, I promise. In the second door on the left, there's a cupboard, unlocked. In it there's a shotgun, with a single shell inside it. Use it."

He nods blankly, blinks, and is alone. Shaking his head he's confused. How did he end up on the floor?

Standing he wanders back towards his family's room, knowing he can't avoid them forever. His thoughts are set only on his plan, look after his mother, and then get her away from his father. By whatever means necessary.

Taking a deep breath he pushes through what he thinks is the room they're staying in. However, inside all is dark; the furniture is threadbare and dusty, obviously not having been touched in a very long time. Frowning, he is about to leave, when a thought that he should look around comes over him. Shrugging he enters the room, heading to a cupboard with its door hanging off its hinges. Carefully he peels away the door. Eyes wide he steps back, causing boards to creak beneath him. Leaning abandoned in the corner of the cupboard is a shotgun. Nervously licking his lips he reaches a shaking hand forward to grasp the gun.

While his father was away, his uncle had taken him shooting pheasants, so the feel of the gun is not so foreign. Within the chamber is a single shell. Suddenly, the image of standing in the hotel room, his father begging before him like he makes his mother beg, materialises into Peter's mind.

The stock is cold, though the gun itself is not dusty, as though it has only recently been placed in the room. Gripping it tight he positions it against his shoulder and looks down the sight. His uncle always said he was a good shot. He is about the put the gun down, when a noise from the room next door, the room his family are actually staying in, causes him to stop.

He can't hear the exact conversation, but he doesn't need to. He knows the hollered words of his father will revolve around the same 'bitch', 'cunt' and 'whore' that they always do. There is a thump and the wall the cupboard is attached to shakes a little. Peter hears his mother's cries, and his blood boils. There is barely time for him to think before he is marching into the bedroom.

"Leave her alone!" he shouts, eyes glistening with tears, as his father goes once more to strike his mum.

Alice gasps, and breathes his name; it is only her actions that give Jasper pause. When he looks up, his eyes widen and he steps back, away from Alice and towards the door.

"Peter," Alice says her voice gentle. "Put down the gun."

Peter frowns before he looks down. He hadn't realised that he still had hold of it, let alone that he has it pointed directly at his father's forehead. He frowns but doesn't drop the barrel. There is such a look of fear in Jasper's eyes, it makes Peter feel strong, worthy of protecting his mum.

"No," he says, voice shaking through the false bravado. "How's it feel?" he asks Jasper. "To be scared? Bet you're not used to that are you?"

"Pete—" Jasper begins.

"No! You're not going to - I won't let you – You can't talk you're way out of this. I'm so…sick and tired of you and your…_abuse!_ You're sick, and twisted, and not my dad anymore."

"Honey." There are tears streaking down Alice's face as she speaks, trying to reason with her son. How could she not know how Peter felt, how selfish did she have to be that she didn't notice how much her son was suffering? The self-deprecating thoughts swirl in her mind as she tries to speak through the tears. "Don't do this, please."

"Why? Aren't you sick of it? Aren't you tired of being nothing but a punching bag?" Suddenly his hands are steady on the stock and barrel, his aim is true at his father's head. This is the end of it. No more pain, no more hurt. He doesn't think about what this act will do to his mother, no thought crosses his mind that he is about to commit patricide. There is only the end of the hurt; that is the only outcome to this for Peter.

There is no pause before his finger squeezes the trigger. There is no sound but that of the bullet ripping its way out of the barrel, of Alice's screams filling the room. But Peter does not see the product of his shot, as the gun suddenly explodes in his hand, sending him flying backwards and into the window.

The glass cracks and breaks beneath him, leaving him impaled on the spiked metal railing just outside the window. Blood gurgles up his throat, and he hears the distant sound of the gun clattering to the ground. He coughs and splutters, pain spreading throughout his abdomen. His only thought before the world goes dark, and his mother's screams and sobs fill the air, is that he's saved his mum; she doesn't need to worry about his father again.

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	12. Chapter 12

**Well here we are then, quicker than I thought. From now on no chapters are pre-written, I'm not sure if there'll be an update before Christmas...or even the New Year. If not I'll see you in 2013!**

**I just want to say a huge thank you to everyone who's reviewed, favourited, alerted and followed this story, it means the world to me! And I hope you continue to enjoy it :)**

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Bella watches enraptured as the shot rips its way through Jasper's skull. His head almost vanishes in an explosion of blood and brain tissue. It makes her smile as Alice runs out of shot, to the aid of her impaled son.

"That was unexpected," she comments. She hadn't expected the gun to backfire so spectacularly, though it means she had one less lodger to deal with.

"Did you like it?" Isabel asks her tone coy.

"Yes, why? Did you do that?"

Isabel nods. "Of course. A little something I planned for the last lot we had in, of course it wasn't needed then."

Bella says nothing. She doesn't remember Isabel doing that, which frightens her that she is acting independent from her. It is odd, and new. Bella doesn't want it to happen again.

Together they watch as the shot roused the other two remaining guests. Bella is unsure as to what is going to happen, but she's excited none-the-less.

~V~

It is to the gunshot that Edward awakens. The sound sends his heart hammering in his chest, it is a primal instinct, one that would usually calm, but as he remains sitting in bed, his heart doesn't slow. As his senses return and he remembers where he is, he knows he isn't out of danger yet.

Quickly he scrambles out of bed, still in the jeans and tee-shirt from the day before, he doesn't bother putting his shoes on before he is out of the door. He heads to his sisters room. It's time for them to leave; he refuses to spend another night in this place. He's not entirely sure why he hasn't left before now, but doesn't examine the thought too closely.

He hammers on the door to his sister's room, but gets no answer, so pounds again. His heart is racing, his temples throbbing. His breath is ragged, his palms sweating. He's never felt so afraid, so alive, before.

Edward is just about to call her name, when the door suddenly swings inwards, but it is not his blond haired blue eyed sister waiting for him. The broad shouldered Emmett blocks the door, his skin pale and sallow, his eyes shadowed and red. He looks but a shade of the man he was, and Edward's heart sinks. He knows what is in that room.

"Rosalie," he breathes, barely able to speak her name. Emmett simply shakes his head, lips tight. "Royce?"

Emmett's lips curl in disgust, his eyes take on a glint of madness as he speaks. "Dead."

Edward can only nod. He isn't aware of sitting on the floor, not until Emmett falls next to him, shutting the door to, to keep the smell of death from permeating the corridor. They are silent, lost in their grief. The gunshot that aroused them but a memory. Edward has never felt such pain, no one close to him has ever died, and he is unsure what to do with it. A scream from the floor below pulls him from his reverie.

Back on his feet he races down the stairs to the source of the sound, with someone to do and occupy his mind he is well. There will be time for mourning later, for now he knows he must gather whoever is left and leave. They cannot afford to stay any longer.

The scene they happen upon causes his stomach to flex, he gags and hacks as the bile rises in his throat. What was once a man is put a headless mess of blood and gore, streaking across the hotel floor. Alice sits in the middle, between the bodies of her son and husband, hands clawing and dragging clumps of hair from her head as her body is wracked with heaving cries and screams. Edward doesn't know what to do.

It is Emmett who comforts her, who drapes an arm over her cold shoulders and attempts to console her. There is no consoling to be had, but she curls towards his warmth none-the-less. Edward does not step any further into the room before he speaks, his voice carrying through the desolate quiet.

"We have to get out," he says, surprised that his voice does not shake. Emmett nods and stands, dragging little Alice with him. Together they leave the room, and Edward shuts the door behind them; Alice's cries increase in pitch and volume.

There is no luck to be had with the front door, and there is no back door to speak of. All windows are barred and those on the ground and first floor barred with steel. It appears there is no way out. The trio sit in the parlour, amongst the doilies and the lace, trying to come up with a plan. There is no phone reception, and when Edward tries to lobby telephone there is no dial-tone. They are alone.

"Bella," Edward suddenly says. How could he have forgotten about the landlady? She had been playing on his mind so much but with everything happening so suddenly she had slipped his mind.

He thinks back to the newspaper articles, then to everything going on. He isn't sure what happened to the other two guests, but he knows that they aren't alive. He doesn't fancy going to search for them. The thought strikes him that this entire weekend could be of her making, she could have designed it so that none of them survive this, but he shakes the thought away.

It is much too complex, many of the deaths were done by human hands, the boy shot his father, Royce killed Edward's sister and Emmett killed Royce. Bella couldn't possible have had a hand in that, could she?

His thoughts cycle, but he gets nowhere. He knows the only option for escape is to find her. It's her hotel after all.

The idea of seeing her again, of her strange unblinking eyes and malicious smiles sends his stomach fluttering, but he attempts to push down the fear. It is not just his own safety on the line.

"Bella?" Emmett questions.

"The landlady," Edward explains.

Emmett frowns and suddenly stands. "Well where is she? She dead, too, or's she just left us to fend for ourselves?"

Edward smiles sardonically. "I imagine it's the latter."

"So we have to find her?"

Edward nods. "She's on the top floor."

"Right then," Emmett claps his hands before pulling Alice up from the sofa. "Lead on."

~V~

"It would seem they're coming for you," Isabel says around a smile. Bella only nods. "But you're used to that aren't you? People coming to get you."

She laughs cruelly and Bella shivers. Isabel's mocking tone hurts, and she knows why. They called it moral insanity, said she was crazy and needed special help; all because she'd _befriended_ the butcher's son and wound up carrying his child. It would have been fine if his bloody mother hadn't reported her, then off to the asylum they'd carted her. It was in there, after they'd taken her baby away from her, that she'd met Isabel.

Isabel had been there for her when no one else had, but none of the doctors believed Isabel existed. Electroshock therapy had stolen so much of her mind, but during that time she'd been allowed to return home. She didn't remember the butcher's boy. Her mind was addled and lost; her parent's feared her and often sent her off on ridiculous errands, believing the fresh coastal air would revive her. It was no wonder she'd gotten lost that day.

"Oh look, here they come," Isabel coos, watching on the monitor as the three remaining victims march their way up the stairs. Her voice breaks Bella from her memories and she smiles, joining in with Isabel's glee.

"Edward shall be mine soon." She laughs, so terribly excited to have him all to herself.

"Ours you mean?" Isabel questions, to which Bella nods. Though silently she refutes it. _No, he'll be all mine._

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	13. Chapter 13

_Sorry it's been so long, what with Christmas and New Year I've just had no time for writing. I hope you all had a lovely time these last two weeks :)_

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Chapter 13

On unsure feet the trio make their way up the staircase, jumping at the slightest noise of the wind howling through cracks in old windows. Alice is shivering, her hands twisting in front of her, but still she moves on. There is a strange spark in all their eyes; these strange occurrences end tonight.

Emmett slows to a stop on the first floor landing, not too far from the still bodies of Alice's husband and child. His brows are furrowed as his thoughts tick over, and Edward allows him peace to speak his mind.

"What if Bella's responsible for it?"

Edward frowns; it's something he too has been thinking. All these deaths and the articles he found all seem too coincidental in his mind. He has been thinking of old folk tales, and legends that he lectures on. How is it so easy to believe in the supernatural when he is the only one? When he has a room full of students, or colleagues questioning him, he is relentless in his apparent belief. Yet here, now, with the possibility that monsters are as real as he is, the idea seems preposterous.

"She might be," he finally says.

Emmett's eyes are narrowed, his muscles tense; with fear or anger, Edward's not sure. "What is she?" he asks.

"I don't—"

"Have a guess," Emmett says through gritted teeth.

"I did some searching online last night, and I found these articles, from over one hundred and fifty years ago. They were about Bella."

The air around them is dense with suspicion. There is a pervading smell of iron and decay, the scent of bodies not too long since dead. "I've been thinking and thinking, but no one thing sticks. To be so old, and so completely unchanged, the pale skin, and all these people dead, I'd say she's vampire. But _she_ hasn't necessarily killed all these people; she certainly hasn't drained them of their blood. We know she can go out in the daylight. So it doesn't fit."

Emmett frowns. "What else could she be?"

Edward runs a shaking hand through his hair. "I don't know, some sort of witch, maybe? But, I don't think that's right."

After nodding, almost to himself, Emmett leaves Edward and Alice on the landing, and begins moving between the rooms on that floor. He returns to the remaining survivors three times, creating a pile of items at their feet; two bottles of gin, a long knife, broken balustrades, a cigarette lighter, a pillow case, and six corkscrews.

Picking up a piece of balustrade and the knife, he begins whittling the wood down to a point. It is crude, and not particularly sharp, but he seems content and moves on to the next. Also using the knife, he begins slicing up the pillow case, and shoves the material into the top of the gin bottles.

"What are you doing?" Edward asks.

"Getting prepared. I don't know how flammable gin is, but I reckon it'll work to some extent."

Realising that there's no point arguing – that if Bella really is a vampire, there's little chance of any of Emmett's solutions working, when she seems to break all normal conventions anyway – Edward begins splitting everything into three piles for them all to use. His heart has slowed somewhat; maybe they'll get out of this alive.

~V~

"Look at them," Isabel coos at the screen. "I wish we could hear what they're saying, but isn't it adorable. They think they can beat us."

Bella laughs lightly, though a frown still mars her brow. Her guests have never done that before; tried to protect themselves. They never had any idea what was coming for them until it was far, far too late. Honestly, none of the others seemed to have much of a regard for the lives of those around them, but these three; a woman abused by her husband, a man who had been caught up in an affair, and Edward, they seem so determined to protect each other and themselves. It's bizarre; it almost makes her challenge her perception of humans.

"Don't think like that," Isabel scowls. "They're all the same. Selfish, hurtful, out for themselves. They all deserve to die, just like all the others. You know this."

Bella nods. Of course she does. But that doesn't stop the thoughts that maybe they don't. Except that she knows what they're making; weapons against her. They're going to try and kill her, to keep her away from Edward. _ That_ she won't have.

Pushing herself from her swivel chair, she wanders into her bedroom, collapsing heavily onto the raw silk sheets. Her ceiling is mottled white, and her blue dress has risen to her thighs. There is a slight breeze coming from the open window and the smell of the sea permeates the air. She's never been able to escape this place, no matter how much she tried.

Closing her eyes her thoughts cast back to her humanity, as she tries to ignore Isabel's scathing tones in her head. She wonders if she was as vapid as the humans she has encountered over the years, she doesn't like to think so. Bella remembers the sunshine, that day she met the butcher's boy out on the bluff. He was her first man at sixteen, and while she doesn't remember his name, she remembers how happy she had been.

Her parents had always been strict. They ran a tight ship of a hotel, and Bella, or Isabella as she was known then, was expected to fall in line. Strangely, she doesn't remember being unhappy. Not until they'd sent her off to that God awful place.

Nights in the asylum had been filled with wails and moans. Screams in the night and the scrape of flesh on stone as women tried to force their way out. She remembers the weight of her baby, how round her stomach had grown even as her body waned. It wasn't that she was underfed, but it was nothing that she was used to. She'd named her baby Sarah; she remembers and in the dark room Bella's hands drop to her flat abdomen.

She didn't let them clean her, and she'd been left in her room, filthy and alone. For days she didn't eat or drink, she only sat upon her threadbare bed, hands twisting as she pulled at her hair. The grief was so strong, and all she could see was her baby's large blue eyes and dark hair. That was when Isabel found her.

She made her eat, and drink. She made sure that the doctors cleaned her up, and took her for walks in the gardens. With Isabel by her side, Bella grew strong again. Except with Isabel, new problems came. The doctors couldn't see her, said there was no nurse or patient who went by the name of Isabel. They said she wasn't real.

The rest is a blur, broken by rare moments of lucidity. She remembers Isabel growing angry, saying that they'd never get out of that place if Bella kept telling them about her. So she'd stopped. She'd pretended their therapies were working. Until eventually she was allowed to go home, but only for a short while. The electroshock was on-going, and twice a week she had to return to the asylum.

Her parents didn't care for her company, though. They would send her out, preaching that the fresh, sea air was just what she needed. It wasn't their fault that one day she wandered too far. Not their fault she got lost in the woods. Not their fault that _he_ had found her.

There isn't much she remembers about him, except his bright red hair and pitch black eyes as he'd come swooping down on her from above. Then there was pain, and blackness. She woke feeling empty, but alive on the woodland floor. There was something else, though, a hunger and anger within her that she was dying to sate.

The butcher's boy and his family didn't stand a chance as she'd slipped through the window and slaughtered them in their beds. Her own parents were soon to follow.

In the beginning it had been about blood, her attacker had drained her almost completely and thus she needed to glutton herself on that of others. She can't remember how many she killed before the thirst was gone.

After that it was not their blood she needed, but their life. She needed death, and she fed on the souls of the departed.

There is a creak on the landing outside, and Bella's red eyes snap open, as a smile twists her lips.

The game is almost done.

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	14. Chapter 14

**Ruth, my real life friend reading this story, has been pestering me to update lol. So I have! Ta-da!**

**I hope you like it. There's only one chapter left after this.**

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Edward's hands are shaking, and clenching them to fists doesn't help. His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, and he has a feeling that if what lies behind the innocuous white door before him doesn't kill him, then a heart attack will.

He's almost entirely convinced that their landlady is a vampire, and he has no idea how it came to be that he's going to be the first through the door. He's an academic, for God's sake; a crackpot who lectures on the occult. He has only two friends, though even they could be simply acquaintances. He's twenty-eight years old, and he's never had a serious girlfriend.

In the few moments before they are to creep through the door, he wonders what happened to the man he used to be. He used to stay up till two am on a school night, would drink until he couldn't stand, talked to everyone and anyone. He had so many friends when he was younger, so much life. His life now consists of nothing outside of work and seeing his sister. He is in a rut, and he knows it.

Silently, he makes a promise to himself; should he come out of this alive, he's making a change. No more playing safe, he is going to travel, make new friends and maybe find someone to share his life with.

With that in mind, he places his hand gently on the door knob, though he pauses as a noise from within catches his attention.

"It isn't a pity party when there's only me here. Yes, well, I don't always count you, do I? You used to be a lot nicer when I first met you. Of course I'm not going to leave you, you're-"

Edward steps back from the door. It's obviously a one sided conversation, and he wonders who Bella's speaking to, if she's on the phone or speaking to someone he can't hear in the room. The idea that there's a second person involved, someone they perhaps haven't met set sends a trill of fright through him. He bolsters himself, however, there's no way out of this place without Bella – of that much he is certain.

"Ready?" he mouths to his companions, waiting until they both nod, Emmett far more assuredly than Alice, before he turns the knob and enters Bella's rooms.

There is a strong scent of incense on the air within the dark rooms. The only light comes from the moon shining through the window, and Edward flicks the switch on the wall, but it appears the electrics aren't connected to this room. Stepping further in, Edward sees the prone form of Bella on the bed.

He's unsure what to do, as she simply continues to lie there. Her eyes are wide and staring unseeing at the ceiling. Her lips move, yet no sound leave them. Were it not for the slight shift of her head, he would think that she doesn't even know they're there.

Emmett and Alice shuffle they're feet behind Edward, but all thought has left him. He's not really sure what to do now. What does he say?

"Everyone else is dead," Emmett speaks up for him.

A smile curves Bella's lips. "Yes, I know."

Her head turns, her dark eyes staring through them in a way that causes Alice to shake. Edward's fear has made a retreat. Clarity overcomes him that this was all her doing, and that it's very likely he's going to die here tonight. He's never been the brave sort, never really had the inclination to be a hero, but here now, he's determined to go down fighting.

"You know?" Edward says his voice steady in the gloom.

Swiftly, Bella swings her legs until she is sitting on the edge of the bed, hands gripping the blue silk. "Of course."

"So you killed them?"

Bella sighs; it is a sound of disappointed amusement. As she stands from the bed her eyes flash, and she opens her mouth wide in a heaving laugh. For the first time Edward notices the pointed fangs protruding from her gum line. How did he not notice them before? Emmett and Alice step back, but Edward is riveted in her lust filled stare.

From behind him Emmett heaves the bottle of gin, the rag lit at the end. Bella only catches it in her palm and crushes the glass. A shower of flame pours along her hand before disappearing.

"Tut tut," she mocks, "did you really think some hand hewn stakes," she gestures to the wood in their hands, "and a little bit of fire would kill me?"

Before any of the humans can blink she is gone from their sight. Edward spins at the sudden cracks behind him, and turns in time to see Bella dropping the obviously dead forms of Alice and Emmett. He's alone.

"Come, Edward. Sit with me."

Swallowing past the fear, Edward grips onto his shirt sleeve, feeling the point of the concealed stake stab his wrist slightly, as he walks slowly and sits beside the vampire on the bed.

"Now, I think it's time we got to know one another, yes?" Silently he nods. "I want you to know that I didn't kill everyone here – I didn't need to, they did it themselves."

Frowning he asks, "What?"

Crossing her legs daintily, she smiles into the moonlight. "Humans have always been so…insipid. It's like I told you, you thrive on pain – other people's pain. None of the guests tried to leave, you certainly didn't. Why not? People were dying around you, and yet you stayed, to see it through to the end.

"Humans are innately cruel. You're all selfish, obsessed with being better than your fellows. Why is that?"

"Surely you were human once?" he asks. His heart is pounding so hard in his chest, his fear, once vanished, has come back full force.

"Once upon a time."

"So…if you didn't kill them-"

"Well, shall we start from the top," she smiles, and Edward has a feeling that she hasn't had much in the way of conversation for a long time. "There was that lovely young couple, couldn't follow the rules could they? They had to go – so arrogant and self-assured. That was a simple task of unleashing flesh eating ants into their room. Who was next? Oh, they're little friends. The woman, she wanted to leave, but one word from that charming man and she stayed. They didn't even mourn." Her face twists into one of disgust. "That, I did myself.

"After that I really had little to do with any of it. There was the gold-digger and the old man, she simply took advantage of the situation, and used the poison I'd sold her to off her husband, but she couldn't help a little sentimentality. Bless. Then your sister, the adulteress. It didn't take much to convince her to tell her husband how she truly felt, and with his temper – well, like I say, it doesn't take much. Of course then her true love comes to the rescue, kills the husband. Simple really.

"Then the son, that was sad and unexpected. I might have arranged it so he found a gun, which he knew how to use. I had no idea it would kill him too. Someone else had a hand in that one."

Edward remembers the one sided conversation he heard, and focuses on that, so as not to lose himself to the clinical and slightly gleeful way she speaks of destroying her guests. "Who were you talking to, before?"

"I knew you were eavesdropping." She smiles. "I was speaking to Isabel, but don't worry, she can't hurt you."

Edward's not sure he believes her and his eyes spin quickly to the shadows, in case someone is lurking within them. Turning back to Bella, he shifts in his seat slightly. "So why am I here?"

"Because I like you." She blinks, and all of a sudden she looks like the young woman she was before she became the monster she is now. But Edward doesn't allow himself to be swayed by her changing faces. "I've liked you for a long time, you seemed so unlike the rest of them. I knew that I had to get closer to you, to truly meet you."

"So, what? You lured us all here, just to get to me?"

Bella laughs and Edward tries to stop himself from cringing away from her sharp teeth. "See what I mean? You humans, you're so arrogant, thinking everything's about you. I do this once a month, you just happen to be here this time. Don't worry, we'll fix your humanity soon enough."

She shifts closer to him, and his fear spikes. He drops the stake into his hand, thankful it didn't get caught on his shirt sleeve. But as he brings it forward towards her heart, she captures his arm.

"Oh, Edward. I wish you hadn't done that."

She moves as a blur, and he squeezes his eyes shut as a sharp pain erupts on his neck. It radiates down through his body, and he can't stop his hands from reaching up to scratch at his neck, but Bella traps his wrists. Slowly, his eyelids become heavy as his blood is drained.

A softness envelopes him, and through heavy eyes he sees the image of a beautiful woman over him. She has red eyes and a kind smile; she is offering him something, something wet and warm over his mouth. As he licks his lips, they seem so dry, he takes on some of the liquid she is dripping into his mouth.

"Sleep now," he hears as the encroaching darkness takes him.

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	15. Chapter 15

**Here we are at the last chapter! Just over three months it's taken - a lot longer than I expected, but oh well.**

**This is a chapter that I've had in my head since the beginning, but it took a while to write (silly considering how short it is). Anyway, I hope you like it. I'm working on lots of other things, but none that are ready to be posted anytime before Easter probably :)**

**Just want to say thank you to everyone who's reviewed, favourited and followed this story :D your support means an awful lot.**

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There is a strange buzzing in his ears, and in the moment before his eyes open his mind is curiously blank. He expects to see a ceiling as the material he's lying on infers a bed; instead he's greeted with worried yet hopeful red eyes set in a pale heart shaped face.

"He's awake." He hears, though the woman's lips don't move. He blinks trying to clear his head, and sits up so suddenly he expects to feel dizzy.

"Where am I?" he asks. There are hazy memories encroaching on his mind, though they vanish as he attempts to grasp them.

"In my hotel. Do you know who I am?" Her lips are plump and pink, and he's mesmerised for a moment before he hears her voice again. "Don't hate me, please, don't hate me."

Yet again her lips are still, caught between pointed fangs. With a strange feeling in his chest, he runs his tongue along his own teeth, jumping when he reaches a set of fangs of his own.

"You're Bella, Isabella Swan. You invited us here..." his voice trails off. Who is 'us'? He remembers arriving with someone, remembers rain, but can't see the face behind the blond hair.

"Do you know who you are?"

He frowns, of course he does. But then he has to think hard before the words trip off his tongue. "Edward...Cullen. You...you killed everyone."

"I did." She doesn't look remorseful, and Edward wonders why that doesn't bother him. He remembers outrage, fear and anguish. Yet none of those permeate his self, now. Flickering's of the last few days play out in his mind's eye. He sees people dead, red and grey in run down rooms. And he remembers feeling frightened, believing he was going to be next. He remembers feeling angry, that these people had been killed for nothing but sport. Yet he can't conjure up those feelings now.

"Why?" he asks, though even as he does the conversation comes back to him. People are weak, humanity is broken, and she is simply culling those too arrogant to walk the earth.

"You know all this, why aren't you running? Why is my head still connecting to my shoulders? What should I do?"

Edward eyes flick between hers. He can hear her voice, inside his head, as though she were speaking. But her lips don't move. With a sudden clarity he realises he can hear her thoughts, which are these snippets of phrases coming from her head into his. She has no idea, and Edward says nothing.

For a few moments they are silent, and Edward focuses on the stream of thoughts running through Bella's mind. "Why did I send Isabel away? She could have helped, would have known what to do. She hasn't been back since he went down. Is she gone - coming back? Hope not. Don't want her. Got Edward now, all I need." Her thoughts are disjointed, and he struggles to keep up at times. The voice in her thoughts is not unlike the one she uses aloud, but there are subtle differences. She sounds younger, in her mind, more naive and less cruel. Edward thinks she sounds lost.

"You must be hungry," she says out loud, a soft smile pulling at her lips. Edward nods. His body feels tired, though alive.

Together they leave the room and head down into the lower floors of the hotel. There are no bodies littering the rooms anymore, and the smell of death has been replaced by one of lemon bleach. Edward's unsure how long he's been out, though from the steadily lightening sky outside, he imagines it's long enough for the sun to have risen and set again.

"What will I eat?" he asks, though the answer is obvious, really.

"For now, you'll eat blood. But that won't be for long, only until your body is full. Then all you'll need is souls to keep you alive."

He doesn't ask what she means, frankly, he doesn't want to know. His body feel strangely light, and he realises that what he's feeling is immense strength. He is very aware that, if he were to choose, he could decimate the building they are walking through. Yet this doesn't frighten him, it seems fear is just another emotion he can no longer feel in this new form.

Once outside, Bella starts walking quicker towards the trees. Along the way she grasps Edward's hand, he doesn't stop her. He finds he is glad of her, for the confusion is ever present, and even if she seems a little highly strung, she's all he's got. So he allows her to take comfort from him, and he returns the smile she sends him. He almost means it.

"Where are we going?" he asks.

"There's a farm a few miles down the way, you'll find an old human couple there for you to eat."

Edward nods. He doesn't relish the idea of eating humans, when he himself was so recently one of them, but the thought of blood is too enticing an idea for him to think on it long.

As they pass under the tree cover, just before they set off running at a pace that should be impossible for any creature on land, Edward hears one last thought from his companion. The voice is somewhat older, deeper, and full of such a vengeful anger he must restrain himself from startling.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, I'll take over soon. You'll never see Edward again."

But Bella just smiles at him, as though she doesn't hear the other voice inside her own head. And suddenly the fear he thought vanished is back, because that voice is quiet, but angry, and Edward has a feeling she is prepared to play a very long game to get what she wants.

For now, he attempts to put it from his thoughts, and runs through the trees with Bella, all the while thinking of any way he can leave her and make his own way in this strange new world he's awakened in.

* * *

_Let me know what you think :)_

_Also, I've started a book club - everymonthbookclub . blogspot . com (remove the spaces), check it out if you fancy :D_


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